Chapter 1 has officially been edited! Don't be afraid to let me know what you like and don't like.

Character Names:

America—Alfred F. Jones

Florida—Felix Jones

Puerto Rico—Pedro Jones

Venezuela—Elisa Bolivar Paez

Ethiopia—Merille Tesfa

Abyssinia—Ezana Tesfa


March 3, 2022

Niceville, Florida

"I. Hate. My. Life." Alfred groaned, flopping over on his back, his head hanging over the edge of his queen-sized bed as he spread his arms and legs like an eagle over the covers. His head throbbed, he let out a frustrated grunt, pushing the palms of his hands into his eyes. Stupid body. Stupid world. Stupid government agencies who couldn't keep a damn secret to save their lives.

"Yo, Dad? What's happened this time?"

Alfred blinked, turning over onto his belly and looking up to the doorway, where a 16-year-old boy leaned on the doorway, his bed-headed wavy brown hair sticking in every direction. He had deep, green eyes, a lazy expression, and wore a forest-green t-shirt and cargo shorts.

"Oh, hey Felix[1]," Alfred sighed, burying his head into the mattress. "'s nothin'. People are being annoying know-it-alls, that's it."

Florida frowned, coming into the room. "That's all? It's not very often you just come bursting into my house and flop onto a random bed without as much as a hello."

"I don't recall asking you anything."

"Okay, what's really happened?" Felix sat down next to his father on the bed. "You only come down to see me when you absolutely need a break, and that hasn't happened since 9/11."

Alfred turned his head to get a better look at his son, sticking out his tongue as he did so. "Hey! I'm the father here! Shouldn't I be asking you these questions?" he huffed.

Felix shrugged. "Physically, you're only four years older than me, Dad. If I don't ask, who's going to?"

"Remind me how in the world Spain raised you to end up this mature. The guy can't go a day without Romano or tomatoes yet he pumped out you. Can you please tell me his secrets? Maybe Puerto Rico will turn out okay, then."

Felix laughed. "51st time's the charm, isn't it?"

"Shut up."

"Oh, don't worry, Papa. You've messed all of us up horribly, so at least there's no one good enough to compare us to!"

Alfred glared at the sunshine state, and Felix covered his mouth with one hand, trying to stifle his giggles with little success. Huffing, the world superpower rolled over onto his back, intent on giving the southern state a piece of his mind, but was suddenly cut off when a newer, much younger voice cut between the two nations' conversation.

"¿Papa? ¿Estas en casa[2]?"

Alfred blinked, surprised, before grinning and sitting up in his bed. Standing at the edge of the doorway was a little boy in cargo shorts and a blue T-shirt. He had the same unruly black hair as Felix, though his eyes were a dark brown, and he had perfectly tanned skin.

"Yo, Pedro!" He exclaimed, his face lighting up with a burst of energy as he leapt off the bed to meet his territory. The boy, upon seeing his father, burst into a huge grin and squealed, running forwards and leaping into his arms. Alfred grunted as he caught the child, pretending to be put off by his weight. "¿Has crecido desde que te vi por última vez?"

"¡Te vistió la semana pasada!"

"¿Qué? Ha pasado tanto tiempo?"

"¡Eres tan tonta, papá!"

"¿Tonto? ¡Te voy a mostrar tonta!"

With that, America jumped up to his full height, swinging the American territory of Puerto Rico up above his head, much to the excitement of the little boy, who squealed and giggled with pleasure. Felix shook his head, looking slightly exasperated.

"Pedro, estaba tratando de hablar con papá," he cut into the two nation's playtime, crossing his arms.

Puerto Rico adopted a sheepish look. "¿Estabas? Lo siento."

Alfred shook his head good-naturedly, dropping Pedro back into his arms. The young territory snuggled into his father's arms, burying his face into Alfred's jacket. "Hueles bien."

Alfred chuckled, patting Pedro's head. "Good to know," he replied, switching back to English. "How have you been, staying with Felix?"

"Bueno."

"English, Pedro. You're going to have to get used to speaking like this sooner or later. It is the official international language right now[3]. You can't speak Spanish forever, kiddo."

Puerto Rico frowned, jutting out his lower lip. "No like it," he pouted. "Hard."

"You can say that again."

"Tell England language is estúpido."

"I don't know, Pedro. I don't think he'd like that."

"Don' like."

"Don't, Pedro, not don'. Man, I'm starting to talk like Iggy now! Look at what you're doing to me!"

"Dad, seriously," Felix interrupted the conversation again, crossing his arms. "What happened at the last World Meeting? I mean, I know they're usually bad, but this seems worse. I can feel it, and Gaia[4] can feel that something's off as well."

Alfred sighed. He had forgotten that the satellite bases were in Georgia and Florida. The two probably could feel it when the satellite systems had gone worldwide. No doubt Gaia had panicked and told everyone, which was why Felix was pushing so hard to know what was up. Ugh, and he had wanted to keep the states out of this.

"I put Project X Terra 2020 available worldwide a couple days ago," he explained, just deciding to put it out there completely. "You were probably feeling the tech going to the other countries."

Felix froze, shocked, as Pedro whined, not understanding what his older brother and father were talking about. The state blinked as Alfred met his gaze seriously. Pedro tugged on the hem of Alfred's jacket.

"Really?" Felix asked. "Why? You were so dead-set on only letting NATO in with our tech, and we made sure to put it under our most classified information. Why did you just let everyone get access to the project all of a sudden?" He frowned. "Did they make you, Dad? During the World Meeting?"

"Well, they didn't make me," Alfred defended himself. "It was my decision! I did it so I could get better relations with the Eurasian Union. He has the antidote to the virus, and if we can get on good enough terms with him, he might be willing to share the vaccine with us. Maybe New York will start feeling better soon."

Felix nodded, buying the lie, and Alfred sighed inwardly with relief. Though part of him withered at the fact that he was manipulating him like that, Felix shouldn't have to worry about this whole fiasco any more than he should. The last thing he needed was half the states demanding why he had let PXT 2020 go online worldwide.

"Well, you aren't going to reveal the SpiderTech to them, right?" he asked. Alfred shook his head.

"No way! That stuff is even more important than Project X Terra 2020! I'm not letting anyone get ahold of something as revolutionary as that. NATO doesn't even know yet."

"Good, because—"

Knock, knock!

The two jumped, and Pedro clung tighter onto his father, as if sensing his family's sudden jump in tension. Alfred glanced over at Felix, raising an eyebrow in a silent question, and the sunshine state only shrugged, signaled that he wasn't expecting anybody.

Frowning, Alfred passed off Pedro to Felix, motioning the two brothers to stay in the bedroom as he entered into the hallway, walking through the living room, making sure not to pass into view of the open window near the front door, before putting an eye to the peephole in the door to see who was knocking unannounced.

Standing on the other side of the door was a Latino woman, looking to be around 19 years old, with curly, short brown hair. She wore a pink embroidered blouse and tight white pants, along with a lot of beaded jewelry. She seemed to be slightly nervous, and was tapping her foot impatiently. Alfred nearly recoiled when he saw her.

What was Venezuela doing here?!

Shaking himself, America frowned, trying to figure out how she had found out where he was. He had purposefully left his work phone and laptop in D.C., so somehow tracking him to Florida wasn't really an option. He hadn't even told anyone where he was going, save for a couple of his states! This was getting ridiculous. Couldn't he get just one day away from world politics?

America shook himself with a sigh and put his hand on the doorknob. He was the hero, for heaven's sake! When did he get so paranoid? Taking a deep breath, he put on his hero's grin and opened the door abruptly, startling the nation on the other side. Venezuela blinked at him, stumbling back a bit at the sudden welcome.

"Yo, what's up, Venezuela!" He exclaimed, stepping aside to let the South American nation in. To her credit, Venezuela didn't look too off-put by America's outgoing behavior, giving a small smile herself and entering the household, taking off her shoes and setting them by the door.

"New Order Venezuela," she corrected politely, seemingly unoffended by the mistake. America watched her closely, internally hoping that Felix would keep Pedro quiet in the other room. "I haven't been Venezuela since my revolution back in 2016. It's nice to see you, again, America."

"Yeah," America replied cheerfully. "I haven't seen you outside of World Meetings since your oil industry opened up. I visited you for, like, a month then. When was that? During the 1920s?"

"I believe so," Venezuela replied, standing with a raised eyebrow. "I remember how you taught me baseball—the one thing besides oil that you seemed to be interested in."

America frowned at the slight jab at his past, but did his best to brush it off. Inciting a conflict so soon after the G20 fiasco probably wouldn't be the best idea. "Hey, your country was a nice place! I liked it!" He shook himself, knowing that he shouldn't be distracting them by wasting time on small talk. "Anyways, would you like a seat on the couch? I'm kinda surprised you're here actually. I'm supposed to be on vacation!"

Venezuela started, surprised as she took the offered seat, and America raised an eyebrow as he sat on the couch next to her. Really, he thought. What did you think I was doing in the panhandle of Florida?

"Oh," the South American squeaked, her cheeks coloring. "Were you? I called your work phone, one of your states answered and told me that you were here for the moment, and I assumed that it was just because of your satellite program being released worldwide or something."

America blinked, now also moderately surprised. "Really? Who told you that?"

"Um, I forgot her name," Venezuela's cheeks colored even further. "Uh, she was a girl and talked about some new anime that was out, if that helps."

America nodded. Only one state currently in D.C. had that description. "I think that that was Colorado, then. That's odd, though, because she knew I was taking a quick break from work. I wonder why she didn't tell you that. She's not much of a trickster. Usually." He paused, then shrugged it off, making a mental note to ask Cody about it later. "Anyways, why are you here? You came all this way, I might as well talk to you." He laughed shortly.

"Well, America," Venezuela began, her hand flying up to her face to brush back a strand of loose hair. "I'm sure you know that I'm more of a capitalist right now, and my people have recently been pushing for a more, well, reputable reputation internationally. So I wanted to come see you and ask, um, can I join NATO?"

"Join NATO?" Alfred echoed, slightly surprised. Besides Macedonia and West Ukraine (well, the only Ukraine since East had collapsed and joined Russia back in 2020), not many countries had really been aspiring to become part of NATO. Besides that, Venezuela was in South America and a long ways out of the alliance's zone of influence, making the offer come out of left field.

"Um, yes," Venezuela replied fiddling with her hands. "You see, my people are quite adamant about this, and we've sent our letters of intent to NATO[5], but we have yet to receive an answer. I wanted to speak with you, and see if NATO is willing to let me in. I mean, technically I am in the Northern Hemisphere and border the Atlantic, so…" she laughed nervously.

America frowned, putting a hand to his chin as he thought. Venezuela could be a powerful ally. She was seeking him out to try and better her chances of getting in, and she would increase NATO's sphere of influence into South America. But Venezuela's government was still young, and her economy very fragile. NATO was already spread thin with the Ukraine split and Eurasian interference, and he didn't want to add to their issues an unstable country.

"Well," he began after taking a moment to think. "You have to understand that we won't be able to let you in just yet." At Venezuela's crestfallen expression, he hurried to continue. "But, you're still young, Venezuela. I don't see that when you finish all your reforms and meet all of NATO's requirements, we won't let you in. Just keep on doing what you are now and we'll go from there."

"Alright then!" Venezuela stood up quickly. No doubt she was looking to leave as soon as possible to save face. Alfred followed her lead, feeling bad for her but not bad enough to cancel his entire vacation to entertain her. He made a mental note to have Virginia have a talk with Colorado once she left. "I will continue to try and improve myself and my country. Thank you for speaking with me today."

"Good!" America replied, sticking out his hand. Venezuela shook it. "And since we'll probably be meeting more after this, just call me Alfred."

"Alfred?"

"Well, yeah, that's my human name. For informal situations and stuff. If you want the full one, it's Alfred F Jones!"

"Oh, um, well," Venezuela stuttered a bit, caught off guard. "I'm Elisa Bolivar Paez."

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance with you!" Alfred laughed. "You've just made friends with the hero, so be happy!"

"Okay. I'm so sorry to have bothered you on your vacation; I really had no idea that was why you were here."

"It's fine."

Elisa nodded, curtsying politely. Alfred also bowed sloppily, not really trying but feeling it would be rude not to bow at all.

"Thank you for your time," Elisa said, putting her shoes back on. "I'll see you at the next World Meeting, I assume?"

"Sure, dudette!"

And with that, Elisa left the house. Once the door was shut, Alfred collapsed back onto the couch, running a hand through his hair. Really, can't I ever get out of World Politics? He asked himself. This is so exhausting. He frowned, looking over through the open window to see Elisa hitting herself several times on the head as she walked back to her car. Huh. I wonder why she's doing that. In fact, why did she go out of her way to meet me at all? She could've just as easily emailed or called me and waited for me to get back her.

Girls are so weird.


February 28, 2023

Addis Ababa, Ethiopia

Ethiopia was not feeling well.

It wasn't your normal type of physical sickness; no, what Merille was feeling was a pressure in the back of his mind, a kind of discomfort that was very difficult to explain. It was just incessantly there. No matter what medication he took, there was always a slight stiffness to his limbs as he moved, a deep throbbing behind his eyes, a lack of appetite when it was time to eat.

He sat down in his living room, trying to ease the pain in his head by rubbing his temples. Somewhere out there, he knew Somalia was out seething about how he had annexed her; her people were probably causing this headache right now. It wouldn't be the first time.

Merille just couldn't see any other way to take care of the problem. Rihana's virus was a threat to her people as well as his, and even though she was his sister, they hadn't been on good terms with each other since World War II, anyways (and they had hated each other on and off for centuries before that). Taking over Somalia had been the right choice. Even now, his people were taking care of what remained of hers.

Merille sighed, draping an arm over his face. It was times like this when he really hated his life. If only he and Rihana were on better terms, maybe the both of them would start feeling better. Hm. Maybe he could invite her over later? Try and talk things out with her. He really did need to learn how to control his temper. Maybe if he cooked her some Wat[6]…?

Even as the thought passed through his mind, Merille laughed, and brushed it aside. Rihana wouldn't forgive him, and rightfully so. She did kind of deserve what she got, though. He never understood why they couldn't ever get along.

Suddenly, Merille was ripped out of his thoughts as a stabbing pain resonated in his chest, near his heart, the sensation similar to being stabbed in the chest with a knife. He gasped, a hand flying to his chest, as he fell to his knees. His lungs suddenly felt full to the brim, and he coughed, his free hand flying to his mouth as he hacked. Reflex tears filled his eyes, as something wet and sticky hit his hand. Merille gasped for air as soon as the thing was unblocked from his chest, pulling away his hand from his mouth to find it coated in a mix of blood and phlegm.

His eyes widened, and Merille's blood turned to ice. Headaches, pain in the heart, coughing up blood… something was happening. Something really, really bad.

Dammit! Is it a terrorist attack? Is Somalia full-on rebelling? Shit, I should've noticed this earlier!

Merille grunted, using his bloodied hand to steady himself as he stood, blinking the reflexive tears out of his eyes. He needed to find his way to the phone, and call his government to find out what had happened. Ezana would be on his way home from work right now, too; if he was hurt like Merille was he was going to need help.

But what just had happened? The question thudded at the forefront of his mind.

As if on cue, the front door opened behind him. Ezana's home! Merille nearly collapsed with relief; if he could make sure Ezana was okay, then things would get a lot better. A moment after the door opened, however, much to his confusion, the sound of echoing boots thundered into the house, followed by the clicking of guns being loaded. Merille knew that sound all too well.

Cursing to himself, Ethiopia ducked under his couch, grabbing the pistol that he usually kept hidden underneath. He checked it to make sure it was loaded, and steadied it in his still-trembling hands as he peeked over the corner of his sofa.

Uniformed men in camouflage and bulletproof jackets were racing into the room. Gritting his teeth, Ethiopia shoved any questions he had to the back of his mind as he steadied his hands. He took a moment to aim, and then fired on the soldiers that had invaded his home.

The first soldier to have entered his house cried out as his side was hit by a bullet, but it wasn't fatal, the man only clutching at his chest where the bullet had hit his vest. Ethiopia scowled; he had always been a horrible shot. Almost immediately, the other soldiers rushed him, the sofa erupting into stuffing as at least five bullets hit it in a quick succession. Ethiopia gritted his teeth and fired several more times, hitting one man in the face, two in their limbs, with three more shots missing entirely.

He ducked after the seventh bullet, racing from his hiding spot before it was overrun to dive behind his dining room table, partway across the room. He hissed in pain as a shot grazed his calf, but made it over in time to throw over the table as the soldiers came closer. Adrenaline sang through his veins as he steadied his hand to fire again. His gun had ten bullets, and he had just used seven. Three left.

Better make them count.

He whipped around the table to see at least a dozen men in his house, and swore. Taking a breath, he aimed again, and fired as his opponents did the same. Thankfully, his last three shots each hit a person, but another bullet clipped his forehead, and he ducked behind the table once again as his blood began its warm descent down the left side of his face. The shots thundered against the table, causing it to splinter, and the African took a moment to wipe away the blood that was rushing down into his eyes.

Abruptly, Merille's left hand exploded into pain, and he drew it into his other hand with an involuntary cry. It was coated in blood from taking a direct hit. A bullet had made its way through the table, the hole gleaming as the country hissed. What the hell was even going on?!

However, the pain came back in a wave, kicking his mind back into the present. He grabbed his empty gun just as another bullet hole burst through the table, just shy of his shoulder. He winced involuntarily as footsteps came closer, the troops closing in like a predator moving for the final strike on their prey. As soon as Merille sensed that their presence was close enough, however, he leapt up from his hiding spot and brandished his gun in his good hand, feeling a satisfying 'thunk' as he hit his target. The soldier he had hit thudded to the ground, and Merille quickly grabbed the man's gun and retreated back to the table as three bullets more whizzed past him.

He glanced over the gun, trying to figure out its model. It was a vz. 58, not too bad. He didn't have much experience with it personally, but his army used it, so it would do. He peeked back around the table and began shooting blindly, not really knowing what he was doing now but determined to fight off his attackers. A cry came up from the men, signaling the success of at least one bullet.

However, the small victory was short-lived as the back of his head exploded into pain. Vision swimming, he whipped around to see that one of the soldiers had snuck up on him from behind and hit him with the butt of his gun. He turned around and shot several more times, and the man went down, but not before two more bullets hit him in the side and arm. His arms slackened with the last shot, and he finally collapsed, adrenaline no longer able to keep him going.

Dimly, he registered hitting the ground, his vision swimming as the room quieted, leaving the roar of the gunshots to echo in his ears alone. Was he dying? Was he going to revive?

"Well, well, Merille. I have to say, I'm impressed. You held out a lot longer than I expected. Taking out six of my men? I really shouldn't be surprised."

The voice was blurry through the waves of pain that came from each heartbeat. The world spun around him and he tried to get up, but his arms refused to cooperate. The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but he just couldn't find the time to try and place it with the stinging pains all over his body. He groaned, trying to blink the world into view, but it was no use, and it continued to spin in a blur of color.

"It's really too bad. If only we could've had the chance to talk this out, then maybe you could have joined me. But I think we both know you would've said no."

His vision steadied somewhat, enough to recognize that a figure was standing over him, holding something in his hand. Everything was too blurry to make out.

"Say hello to Mother[7] for me, little brother. At last, the virus will be in only my hands!"

There was a deafening bang, and everything went black.


[1]- To make it a little bit easier for the readers (and myself), every state's human name starts with the same letter as their state name (i.e., Florida is Felix, California is Caitlyn, and so on). There is only one exception: Utah's name is Ryan (because I chose his names before I made this rule, and got kind of attached to it).

[2]- Spanish translations (Mostly done by yours truly):

"Papa? You're home?"

"Have you grown since I've last seen you?"

"You saw me last week!"

"What? It's been that long?"

"You're so silly, Papa!"

"Silly? I'll show you silly!"

"Pedro, I was trying to talk to Dad."

"You were? Sorry."

"You smell nice."

[3]- Another headcanon. English, in my opinion, is the one language most of the nations of the world can speak, so that everyone can, well, understand each other. Before the 1500s, the lingua franca was Latin, but as hardly anyone outside of their community spoke that and as French became more popular, the nations changed it to French in the mid-1600s, before changing it again to English after World War I. America's trying to get Puerto Rico to speak English more fluently, so that he can talk to other non-Spanish speaking nations when he gets older and starts to enter international affairs.

[4]- Georgia

[5]- Part of the process in becoming part of NATO, according to their website. Aspiring NATO countries must send letters of intent to the leaders, along with deadlines to reform their countries so that they are eligible. The next step for Venezuela is to convince the members that her country is stable enough to be of use to them.

[6]- A traditional Ethiopian dish, Wat is a thick stew that is usually served on top of Injera, a large sourdough flatbread.

[7]- D'mt is Ethiopia's mother, and was an old empire located in Eritrea and Northern Ethiopia, from the 10th to 5th centuries BC. She had four children, from oldest to youngest: Abyssinia/Ezana, Ethiopia/Merille, Somalia/Rihana, and Eritrea/Lebina.

World News (February 22, 2022 to January 13 2024):

1) Ethiopia's quarantine zones are slowly stabilizing

2) Libya continues to be controlled by Italy in an attempt to maintain the spread of the

plague

3) New Order Venezuela buys several islands in the Caribbean

4) The use of euros in West Ukraine and Turkey becomes more popular

5) Switzerland's chocolate is being distributed to more and more nations

6) Greece's expedition was successful, and their debt crisis is continuing to slowly resolve

7) The people of Japan want real estate to be cheaper. However, the price ended up raising instead

8) Italy's program is slowly failing

9) The Discovery Channel is not happy about America's Spider Tech

10) Tensions between India and Nepal have sharply increased